


The Unhappy New Year's Affair

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Chinatown, Drugs, Food, Friendship, Gen, Human Trafficking, Spies & Secret Agents, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: After an innocent visit to Chinatown in New York just to buy some soup, the agents find themselves caught up in a deadly situation involving a notorious and dangerous Chinese gang.





	The Unhappy New Year's Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any mistakes in my Chinese and Russian phraseology.

“ _Gōng Xǐ fā cái_ _ _wishing you the best of wealth,_ ” Illya Kuryakin said to the man at the counter as he picked up his order of _Wonton Mein_ soup.

There was only place in Chinatown that made it the way the Russian liked it with lo mein noodles, wontons, lettuce, finely diced green onion and bits of pork in mild chicken stock. So whenever he was there, he made a beeline to the small storefront restaurant to get an order in a take-out container.

This visit to Chinatown was not for an assignment, it served no purpose other than to take care of a sudden craving Illya had for the delicious soup and he convinced his partner to accompany him on his personal mission to obtain it.

Napoleon munched on a egg roll as his partner joined him by the door to the restaurant, watching the festivities outside on the street in celebration of the Chinese New Year.

 

 

 

It was the year of the dragon and a long effigy of a one paraded past, with a team of men hidden beneath it, performing the traditional   _wǔ lóng_ dance, mimicking the supposed movements of this river spirit in a sinuous, undulating manner, symbolizing the historical role of dragons, demonstrating their power and dignity. It rose up and down, as if it were gliding effortlessly through the air and was one of many floating in the long parade.

Dragons were believed to bring good luck, reflected in their qualities of great power, dignity, fertility, wisdom and auspiciousness. The appearance of the brightly colored red and yellow and green creature was both frightening and bold but had a seemingly benevolent disposition, as the dancers made people smile while they made it move along,

The dancers were clothed in vivid matching uniforms, blending among the brilliant balloons, banners and lanterns in the long lines of participants and viewers of the lively parade. There were many dragons in this parade, along with the traditional Chinese  _wǔshī_ lion dancers _,_ like the dragon dance, its performers mimicked a lion's movements wearing a stylized lion costume operated by only two people, unlike the dragon that needed many dancers supporting the dragon on poles. The lion dancers based their steps upon fundamental movements found in Chinese martial arts and were more choreographed in their dance.

Firecrackers exploded everywhere, chasing off any demons that could spoil the celebrations. Some say firecrackers were used to keep the dragon awake during the New Years celebrations and were  are said to bring luck and prosperity to the community. Combined with the firecrackers, the accompanying loud music made for a raucous display.

Children and young people walking or standing on the sidewalks carried red _Lai-See_ envelopes containing money they had been given for the occasion of the New Year.  Red symbolizes good luck and was also supposed to ward off evil spirits.

Illya opened his container of soup and was just about to spoon a _wonton_ into his mouth when there was a loud explosion down the block.

“That was no firecracker.” Napoleon said, tossing what was left of his egg roll into a nearby steel-mesh trash container.  Illya looked at his untouched soup with regret, setting the container on the edge of a silver planter, offering it to a man standing beside him. “ _Xīnnián kuàilè_ _ happy new year, _Xiǎngshòu_ _enjoy, ” he said wistfully, then took off after his partner who was already running ahead on the crowded sidewalk.

They dashed to the corner then crossed, ducking under the undulating dragon as it paused in the middle of Mott Street.

Angry words were shouted from the dragon dancers as Solo slammed into one of them, knocking him into the ground, followed by the Russian making his apologies.

 _“Hěn bàoqiàn, hěn bàoqiàn.... Jǐngchá yèwù_ ._so sorry, so sorry...police business,” He lied as helped the man up.” _Gōng Xǐ fā cái_ ,” he added before dashing off in search of Napoleon.

Illya stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the sidewalk turning in every direction,  realizing his partner had completely disappeared from sight.  He stepped behind a rack of postcards outside a novelty store, pulling his communicator.

“Open Channel D- Napoleon? I cannot see you, where are you?”

The only reply was static.

“ _Chyort,_ ” Illya cursed under his breath. Then he heard another loud explosion, and took off in that direction, thinking it was odd the crowds around him did not react to it as it was obviously much louder than the crackling fireworks being set off along the parade route.

He dodged in and out among the people on the sidewalk, his eyes darting in every direction looking for Solo and then he spotted him, standing on the next corner beside a beautiful dark haired Oriental woman.  Napoleon climbed into a waiting black car, followed by the woman,  taking off before Illya could reach it.

“ _Proklyatʹya_ _ _damnation_! What are you doing now Napoleon?”

He pulled his communicator pen again, slipping out of sight to call headquarters.

“Yes Mr. Kuryakin?” Answered Alexander Waverly.

“Sir, Mr. Solo and I were in Chinatown and went to investigate what sounded like an explosion, we lost contact with each other and when I caught up with him he was getting into a car with a Chinese woman. His communicator is not active.”

“Describe the woman to me if you would?”

“Tall, lithe... approximately five foot ten, narrow facial features, with longer dark hair parted to the side. She was wearing a sleeveless red dress.”

“I have a file in front of me for a _Chang Yanmei_  whose photograph matches that exact description.  She is associated with _D_ _aiyu_ , the notorious _Black Jade_ gang run by her brother _Chang Kuang Hao_ and has its origins in Hong Kong. There have been a number of recent murders in Chinatown, all attributed to the Black Jade. They are involved in the weapons trade, and human trafficking...with possible ties to members of Russian crime syndicates.”

“Yes sir I am familiar with Vory v zakone, meaning _thieves in law_.They are  bound by a code, with that class of criminal abiding by certain rules set forth in the Soviet prison system. One such rule, cooperation with the authorities any kind is forbidden.”

“The _Vor_ gained control of the black market with the help of corrupt officials, supplying products such as hard to reach electronics that were not available to the ordinary Soviet citizen. I have heard rumors some of them were expanding their operations, but with the Chinese gangs, that is surprising as traditionally China and Russia have always been at odds with each other.”

“A task force was set up by the Mayor's office to deal with this gang problem, a Mister Tian, Tian Fengshan the head of the Business Association is the neighborhood representative to it.” Waverly said. “Mr. Solo attended a recent briefing with with the Mayor's office, so he is well aware of the current situation.”  The tone of Waverly’s voice changed then he paused.

“One can only hope that he recognized her and took the initiative to investigate.  The alternative, I’m afraid that his penchant for the ladies might be the death of him some day and this particular female does have a reputation for being most deadly.” Waverly sighed deeply.

" Mr. Solo is also human and _Yanmei_ translated means _flattering and seductive._ I hope seduction is not what took place but In this case I believe he did not go willingly, since he would not just leave, abandoning me without word.”

“We’ll have security monitor his communicator, if he was indeed taken against his will, perhaps he may have an opportunity to at least activate it. In the meantime, return to headquarters.”

“Yes sir,” Illya said reluctantly.”

“Come now Mr. Kuryakin do not take that tone, Mr. Solo is a grown man and can take care of himself. Waverly out.”

The Russian was still feeling downhearted in spite those encouraging words. If he hadn’t talked Napoleon into going to Chinatown to fill a craving for _Wonton Mein_ , then this would not have happened.

Illya saw no sign of what they had perceived as an explosion and looked in the direction in which the limo had gone, deciding he would at least walk that way. Waverly had not qualified when he was supposed to return to headquarters and would take advantage of that oversight, but then wondered if it was indeed an oversight, as the Old Man never did anything without deliberation.

He continued walking south on Mott, holding his communicator in hopes that he would hear from his partner or at least would pick up a ping from a homing signal.  Twenty minutes later he heard the sharp blip that indicated Napoleon had activated his homing device. The signal increased in frequency as Illya continued moving forward, telling him he was getting closer to his partner or his communicator.  There was always the possibility that Napoleon been relieved of it.

Illya tried not to let his hopes get the best of him, as the signal lead him to a grey building located off on a side street away from the noise and activity of the celebrations.

 _XinXiang Sin Wei Trading Company_ , was the name in Chinese characters on a banner draped to the left of the front entrance, indicating it was a fairly new company, not having a permanent sign posted yet. A golden dragon logo was painted on the glass of their front door.

### 

 

Illya slipped on his glasses and walked inside as he assumed the demeanor of a salesman, one of his many covers.

A portly grey-haired man sat behind a wooden desk in a surprisingly small room that seemed to be an office. The walls were decorated with Chinese calendars and images that had auspicious meanings.  There were several large plants in richly decorated ceramic containers, bedecked with yellow and red ribbons bearing messages wishing success and wealth, another sign this was a new business venture.

Behind the desk was a black, four drawer filing cabinet, but it all seemed a bit sparse for a business office, yet on the cabinet was a potted red orchid, lending a surprising breath of softness to the room.

 

A banner proclaiming the year of the dragon was draped across the back wall above a pair of double doors, leading presumably to the warehouse.

 _“_ _Xīnnián kuàilè. Wǒ de míngzì shì fàn - Jan Van de Meer_ , _, wǒ dàibiǎo hélán jìnkǒu gōngsī Dienberch van Rhemen. Wǒ fāyán, qǐng yǔ nín de jīnglǐ_ _Happy New Year. My name is _Jan Van de Meer_ , and I represent  the Dutch import company _Dienberch van Rhemen._ May I speak with your manager please?”

 _Nǐ shuō xiāngdāng bùcuò de zhōngguó. Duìyú yīgè guǐ lǎo_ _ _you speak pretty good Chinese for a foreigner.”_

The Russian ignored the backhanded compliment, _guǐ lǎo was not so nice term for a foreigner . H_ anding him a business card for the bogus company. The telephone number on it looked as though it was from Holland, but was in fact linked to an U.N.C.L.E.  switchboard, with the last four digits of the number indicating a code for the technician to reference if a call was received.  She had only to flip to the coded page in her manual to respond to questions about the imaginary company being used as a cover by an agent, and would sound like a knowledgeable receptionist or secretary to the caller.

“If you prefer, I do speak English,” Illya replied calmly.

“I don’t care what you speak. No business being conducted today, It Chinese New Year, you come back tomorrow. _Xiànzài qù guǐ lǎo, chūqù! N_ ow go _guǐ lǎo,_ get ou _t! Jìnrù jìnrù! Go go!”_ He shouted out in both Chinese and English.

“Perhaps I could just take a brief tour of your warehouse, that way I could report to my company that you are up to our standards as they are anxious to have a contact here in Chinatown.” Illya pleaded.

  
A tall blond Slavic looking man stepped through the double doors, taking a challenging stance with his arms crossed in front of his rather muscular chest. There were crude tattoos on the backs of his hands and fingers, a sure sign that he had been in the prison system in the U.S.S.R. and was obviously a member of the _Vory_ . He stared at Illya, suddenly speaking in Russian.

  


 

“ _Vy slyshali yego, idite syeĭchas_! You heard him, now go!”

Illya dead-panned, giving no reaction that he comprehended a word.

“I am sorry I do not understand. _Spreek je Nederlands_ _do you speak Dutch? _Zhōngguó yěxǔ_ _ _Chinese perhaps_...English?”

“Go!” The tall Russian bellowed.

Illya showed the appropriate level of indignation as he exited, prompting him to head directly to an adjoining alley to the side of the grey building where he might be able to peek in through a side window.

He found one that was slightly too high to do so, and pulled over a discarded milk crate and placed it on the ground beneath the window. He wiped away a thick grey grime covering the pane of glass that looked as though it had never been cleaned.

There he saw Napoleon sitting bound to a chair as _Chang Yanmei_ now dressed in a red embroidered mandarin style _qípáo_ dress with her hair pinned up,  hovered over him with a sharp dagger in her hand. She ran it along his chin, touching it to his skin but not cutting him, then with a sudden swift gesture, she cut away his necktie at the knot.

“Who are you and why were to at the meeting at City Hall?” She questioned Solo.

“Oh that’s for me to know and you to find Miss Chang.” Napoleon smiled at her.

That answer did not make her happy, as she flicked the knife against his chest, cutting away one button, then another.”

“You know if you wanted me to undress, I could think of a more pleasant situation in which to do it, say your pla..”

She slapped him across the face, not letting him finish his attempt at flirting.

“Let us start again. You know my name, I think it only fair that I know yours?” She softened her voice, turning on a bit of charm like the flick of a switch.

 

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Well since you put it that way, the name is _Caldwell_ , Eddie Caldwell and I’m a reporter for the New York Daily News. I was at the Mayor's Office to cover a story on the new task force to combat organized crime in Chinatown.”

“Hmmm,” was all she said, then she turned her attention to the man beside Solo, tied to another chair was an Oriental man, perhaps in his later forties.

 _Tián Fèngshān_ ,” she called him, “ _nǐ bèi jǐnggào bùyào gānshè, ér xiànzài nǐ jiāng wèi cǐ fùchū dàijià. Huòzhě wǒ yīnggāi shuō nǐ de jiārén_ _and you _Tián Fèngshān_ , you were warned not to interfere and now you will pay the price. Or should I say your family will.An older man was brought forward, struggling in the grip of the men who held him.

“ _Dàgē_ _brother!”  Fèngshān cried out.

“There is an old custom that died out in China at the turn of the century.” she smiled.” A traditional form of [ execution ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Execution) used until it was abolished. We will revive the _Ling Chior Leng T'che_ if necessary. The condemned was killed by using a knife to methodically remove portions of the body over an extended period of time.”

“You see Mr. Caldwell, the term _língchí_ comes from a description of one ascending a mountain slowly.  The flesh is cut from the body in multiple slices, you may have heard it called _death of a thousand cuts_.”

“The torturer, using an extremely sharp knife, begins by putting out the eyes, rendering the condemned incapable of seeing the remainder of the torture, adding considerably to the psychological terror of the procedure. Successive minor cuts, chopping off ears, nose, tongue, fingers, toes and genitals before proceeding to grosser cuts that remove large portions of flesh from more sizable parts...well, you get my drift. Though in this case, it will not be done in a public place, you understand of course.” She smiled wickedly, “but the body would be deposited in a very public place to send a very loud message to others who would interfere.”

 **“** So _Tián Fèngshān_ shall I begin the _Ling Chior Leng T'che_ on your brother?”

 _Fèngshān_ looked at Solo with fear in his eyes, knowing that U.N.C.L.E. could not help him in this.

“No, I will tell the Mayor’s Office that I was mistaken, there is no gang problem here. The Deputy Mayor and Police Commissioner need to look elsewhere for those guilty of murdering the citizens of Chinatown. Maybe they need to change their search to the Bronx instead. Yes, that is what I will tell them, and I will resign from any further involvement. _Nǐ yǒu wǒ zài cǐ chéngnuò_ _you have my promise on this, just please do not kill my brother?”

“Good _Tián Fèngshān_ , that is much better. But just to prove I mean what I say.” _Yanmei_ snapped her fingers and the guards brought the brother to a nearby table, pressing his outstretched hand to it.  In one quick motion before the man could react, _Yanmei_  cut off his pinky finger.

 _Tián Fèngshān_ cried out as his brother screamed, Napoleon struggled to loosen his bindings without success, frustrated that he couldn't stop the vile act.

“Release him.” She coldly told one of the guards, “No you go and do as you promised. I will hold your brother and this _guǐ lǎo_ as hostages. If you do not keep your word, then you will be the cause of their deaths and then we will come after you and the rest of your family.

Illya understood the implications of the   _Ling Chior Leng T'che to the Chinese._ The Confucian  principle   _Xi_ _a_ _o_ meant filial piety. To alter one's body or to cut the body was a form of   _X_ _[i](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xi%C3%A0o)a _ _o  Jing_ [ _J_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xiao_Jing) , an unfilial practice. _Lingchi_ therefore contravened the principles of _Xi_ _a_ _o_. To be cut to pieces meant  the body of the victim would unwhole in a spiritual life after death. That was unthinkable to the Chinese who honored the traditional ways.

He hopped down from the crate, having heard and seen enough. It pained him that he was not able to prevent the man from being injured, but when he returned to free his partner; he would help the innocent as and take care of _Chang Yanmei_ as well.

Kuryakin felt a sense of relief that Chang had no idea who Napoleon was, if she knew he was an U.N.C.L.E. agent; then surely she would have sliced his throat then and there.  Walking quickly out of the alley; he headed back out to Mott Street, then disappeared back into the celebratory crowds.

 

The New Year’s festivities were still going strong on Mott Street even after the sun had set, and Illya returned to the warehouse dressed in his usual black turtleneck, black field pants, a wool cap to cover his blond hair, and black face paint smeared to camouflage his fair skin.

He carried a long coil of rope over his shoulder, attached to it a padded grappling hook, and a black briefcase in his hand that he placed on the ground. Opening it, he attached the contents to his Special, converting it to a carbine rifle, suspecting he’d need greater firepower if he ran into any trouble inside.  The last thing he did was to screw a suppressor onto the end of the rifle barrel.

After two throws, Illya still was not able to catch the grappling hook, and became annoyed, uttering to himself in Russian.

 _“Davaĭ Kuryakin vy mozhete sdelatʹ eto ... tri prelestʹ._ Come on Kuryakin you can do this...three is the charm. In his head he heard Russian but his lips whispered in English.

The hook caught on the ledge of the building and the Russian smiled in satisfaction at his success.  He gave it a few tugs to make sure it was secure, slung the rifle strap over his head, hooked the rope through a loop an a heavy belt that he wore and hoisted himself up, scaling the wall like a creeping spider.

Once he reached the rooftop, he pulled the rope up, recoiling it and putting out of sight, the he scanned for the the entrance to the roof, taking cautious steps as he approached it.

He tried the handle and found it locked, then knelt in front of it as he pulled his lock pic from the hem of his trousers and quickly opened it.

Illya turned the handle, then pulled on it carefully, hoping there would be no creaks or squeaks.

The Russian descended the stairs like a cat, taking careful, calculated steps gliding silently to the second floor. Though barely enough light for him to see, what he did see surprised him.

 

There were crates of partially packed semi-automatic weapons everywhere, at least two dozen as he counted them quickly.

And on one of the wall were hundreds of photographs of women and children, some rather pornographic.  That angered him more than the weapons...the thought of human trafficking, especially children for the sex trade made him sick to his stomach, as he thought of his own wife and children.

Voices came from below in the the stairwell, forcing Illya to slip back into the dark shadows, pressing himself against a wall, willing himself to near invisibility.

Two men entered the second floor warehouse, deeply involved in conversation.

 _Kuáng háo cháng shì dǎozhì de dài yù měiguó fèn zhī de wěidà hé fánróng, zhè jiāng shǐ wǒmen fù rén Zhāng zuǒjǐ  _Chang Kuang hao is leading American branch of_ [ _D_ ](http://www.20000-names.com/origin_of_baby_names/etymology_D_female/meaning_of_the_name_daiyu.htm) _aiyu_ to greatness and prosperity, and that will make us rich men  Zhang Zuoji _,_ ” the man snorted.

 

 _“Shì hǎiluòyīn nàxiē liánjià de táocí shì yīgè juémiào de zhǔyì, Yáng  Yīchén_yes making those cheap ceramic ginger jars out of heroin is a brilliant idea, Yang Yichen_ ,” said Zuoji,” and his sister is taking care of all of our troubles with that dagger of hers.  I wouldn’t want her on my bad side!

The two of them laughed a bit nervously at that statement.

Illya now knew who had been committing the murders in Chinatown, and the information about the heroin invaluable as more evidence for U.N.C.L.E. to step in and go after this Black Jade gang.  Though where the Vory v zakone came into the picture was yet unclear to him.

_Zhang Zuoji_ and Yang Yihenset to work packing the wooden crates, nestling the deadly weapons with with handfuls of straw before the lids were nailed shut.

Illya took shallow breaths as he was forced to remain hidden in the shadows but as time passed dust and debris from the straw wafted into the air...he fought it back, but his allergies got the better of him and he let out a muffled sneeze.

 _Zhang_ and Yangpulled their pistols from their belts, heading in the direction of the sound. The Russian didn’t wait for them to get to him and dove from the darkness, ramming into them like an offensive lineman, knocking off balance with his surprise attack.  He his one after the other with a karate chop to the neck, then two shots with the suppressed carbine; he darted them.

Illya relieved them of their handguns, tucking them into his belt and headed back to the stairs, descending carefully to the first floor.

When he deemed the coast was clear he darted behind a high stack of wooden crates, that offered him cover across the length of the warehouse and back to where he’d seen Napoleon being held. But when Illya arrived, the chairs were empty and there was no sign of his partner.  

He heard the voice of _Chang Yanmei_ coming close, this time it was not soft and seductively threatening has it had been earlier. Now it sounded like the shriek of a shrew, whining like a spoiled child when not getting its way.

Illya had to admit, when he first saw the woman he found her exotic appearance attractive, but the more he heard come out of her mouth, the more he became disgusted. She was definitely not a well-mannered Oriental woman.

“What you do you mean this man is not Eddie Caldwell! Why would he lie?  He was there at that meeting in the Mayor’s office. What other reason would he be permitted there if not to cover the story as he said.”

_Yīnwèi tā shì Napoleon Solo, U.N.C.L.E. Jì_because he is Napoleon Solo, an U.N.C.L.E. agent.”_

_“Tā shì yīgè sǐrén! Wǒ jiāng zhíxíng duì tā de líng Chior lǐng T'che zìjǐ, shǐ tā huàn shàngle hěn cháng shíjiān_he is a dead man! I will perform the Ling Chior Leng T'che on him myself and make him suffer for a long time! Bring that bái guǐ_white ghost_ to the back of the warehouse. I will fetch my knife.” She smiled viciously.”I will delight in slicing him to pieces  and will leave his tongue for last so that he will scream for mercy.”

Illya suddenly felt a cold, tingling shiver go down his spine. This woman personified evil. He had seen and dealt with many bad people in his lifetime but only a few deserved that title. His thoughts went back to the Nazis that ran Syrets, the concentration camp outside of Kyiv where he had witnesses so many atrocities as a child.

He remembered those men, and _Chang Yanmei_ possessed that same  look in her eyes that they had. It was cold, heartless and single minded. Illya knew he would probably have to kill this woman if there was a confrontation. There would be no darting her. No, not this one.

He pulled the clip of live rounds from his pocket, switching it for the one filled with sleep darts, then followed the her henchmen to where Solo was being held. They lead him to a door at the rear of the warehouse, and he peeked inside after they had entered.

Napoleon seemed unharmed, but was now chained to the wall with his hands suspended above his head.

“Let’s go you _nèi guǐ._   _Chang Yanmei_ knows who you are now and that makes you a dead man.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t speak Chinese, what is a _nèi guǐ?”_ Napoleon asked calmly.

“That mean you a spy,” the other said in broken English.

“Spy?”Solo laughed. “Hey you got it all wrong buddy, I’m a reporter.”

As Illya continued to listen in, he suddenly felt the cold metal of a gun being pressed against  the nape of his neck.

 

“Drop your weapon!” Yangmei hissed at him.

When Illya dropped the carbine, she shoved him into the room with Napoleon Tien’s brother and her men. “You fools, you had another one spying on you! Chain him with his friend.”

Illya knew he could not let that happen, and lashed out at her, knocking the Chinese type 77 pistol from her hand, then spun around kicking her, sending her flying back and slamming against the wall behind her.

He continued his spin, driving himself into the air kicking one of the men who was charging at him, with the Russian’s his foot connecting with his chin, sending him down for the count.

Napoleon had kicked up his legs, latching on to the second lackey, putting him in a scissor hold until he passed out.

“Glad to see you found me tovarisch.” He smiled.

“No time for small talk, we must get out of here now and contact headquarters and the police. They are smuggling weapons and heroin formed into ginger jars for import from this warehouse.  We have to have this place shut down immediately.”

There was a blood curdling scream from behind them. “Look out!” Napoleon yelled.  Illya turned but it was too late as _Yanmei_ had thrown her knife. It landed in the Russian’s right shoulder. He went down with a yelp.

The woman picked up her pistol aiming it at Illya as she approached him but when she was close enough he propelled himself upwards, having pulled the blade from his shoulder; he drove it into her throat, killing her instantly.

Illya staggered for a moment, looking with a feeling of coldness at the lifeless body of the woman He turned to his partner, pulling a loc pic from his the waistband of his trousers and freed him, then dropped into the grasp of his partner as he swooned from the blood that he had lost.

Napoleon helped him out the back entrance to the warehouse calling for backup on Illya’s communicator as well as for  an ambulance.

By the time the arrived everyone had disappeared  from the _XinXiang Sin Wei Trading Company,_ with only the body of _Chang Yanmei_ and the two men that Illya had darted on the second floor remaining.

“Hi there,” Napoleon smiled as his partner woke in his usual bed in U.N.C.L.E. Medical. “How do you feel...and don’t say fine please?”

“Fine, I will not say I am fine.”

That made Solo laugh, just a little. You know there’s going to be big trouble with _Chang Kuang Hao_  and the Black Jade gang over you killing his sister, as well as his operation being shut down.”

“And that will be dealt with when it happens, if we do not catch him before hand with his fingers in some other illicit operation. There were disgusting photographs displayed on the walls of the upper floor depicting sexual perversions with women and children, so he and his compatriot are involved in human trafficking and the sex trade.  I am not sure how, but I believe he is also involved with member of the Russian mob.

Napoleon paused for a moment, absorbing what Illya had just told him. As a husband and a father, such affairs were morally repugnant to him.

He decided though to change the subject.

“By the way, I never said thanks for coming after me tovarisch.”

“My pleasure, but really Napoleon, you are getting yourself into too much trouble with women lately. I cannot always be there to rescue you.”

“Yes you will. Still I do have a legendary reputation that follows me where ever I go."

Illya pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. He had to admit, his partner though incorrigible, was one of a kind.

 


End file.
